


The Cave

by Illuvarion (LetTheShipsBurn)



Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Biting, Blood and Injury, Bloodlust, Bloodplay, Bonding, Desire, Devotion, Dominance, Elf smut, Hand Jobs, Injury, Love, M/M, Masochism, Oral Sex, Original Character(s), POV First Person, Rough Kissing, Rough Sex, S&M, Sex, Submission, The Butt Stuff, The Noldor, The Sindar, Violence, Violent Yaoi, Warlord Romance, Weird Romance, Yaoi, savage - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-29
Updated: 2016-06-29
Packaged: 2018-07-19 02:54:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,305
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7341691
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LetTheShipsBurn/pseuds/Illuvarion
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sheltered within a cave to escape unseasonably stormy weather, everyone's favorite savage wood-elf Oropher has extremely effective methods of keeping Illuvarion (the poor slender thing) warm.</p><p>Pure, unadulterated elf smut from the finest elf smut farms in all Arda.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Cave

He pulled me against him, burying his head against the side of my neck where it met my shoulder. It felt… warm. Intimate. His breath on my skin was exquisitely exciting in a deep way, and I tilted my head, exposing more of my skin to him, making a low, affectionate purring sound. He licked the side of my neck gently, sucked upon the same spot, leaving a mark, then trailed soft, warm kisses up my ear. My body responded to this, a need awakening within me, and a quiet moan of approval escaped my lips.

Curling a hand around my throat, holding my head away, he unlaced the top of my robe, then slipped his hand inside to lay claim to what skin he could reach. I enjoyed this greatly, and tilted my head back, sighing at this unfamiliar exploration of my body. I felt self-conscious, as I am slight and finely built, especially compared to my lover’s far more solid body. He growled quietly into my ear. “You’re so warm…” Something in this set an insatiable rush through me, my arousal now obvious. 

I burnt inside, with a hot, aching need, and leaned back against him as he undid the rest of my robes, and ran his hands across my exposed skin. Seeking the source of this heat, he ran his hands down my stomach and up my thighs. I moaned, shivering, and closed my eyes, relishing the feel of his hands against the smooth flesh of my inner legs. “Mmh… Do you like that?” he asked of me, running his hands further up. He splayed his fingers, stroking higher still.

"Ai, yérentyë.” I murmured in my native tongue, forgetting myself for a moment, lost in this exquisite feeling. “I… I desire you.” I closed my eyes, awash with an intense desire for his touch. His hands reached the source of this heat, and he curled his fingers around my exposed length, stroking gently. I gasped, eyes wide. I was inexperienced, and his motions were very, very skillful. The sudden newness of this drove a growing tightness within me, burning at the base of my spine.

The muscles of my stomach tightened and my back arched unbidden. I thew my head back, against his shoulder, and tried to ask how this was possible, to feel this way. I could not, and I just groaned wantonly into his ear, begging him not to stop. At this, I felt his hardness press against my back, and I clawed my hand back into his hair. “Please… please do not stop.” I purred to him, groaning again.

He did not, and instead murmured to me “You are beautiful like this.”  
Panting slightly, I whispered “You are beautiful always."

He bit and licked my neck as he pleasured me, growling into my ear. He slapped my thigh, sharply, and I gasped a positive response, feeling my body thrust against his hand. I groaned from deep within my chest, guttural. “I need you.”

Spurred by this, he bit me harder, chewing a bit roughly at my neck with a savage grunt. The effects of this on my physical arousal were immediate, obvious, and very positive. He bit me harder, and nipped at my ear. I needed more of this, and groaned to him that he would not break me. He tightened his grip upon me, and sunk his teeth into my neck, savagely, drawing blood. As he licked this new wound, I gasped with need. “Y… yes. That… More.” My hips raised again, instinctively.

This was all he needed to hear, it seemed, and he pulled me back by my throat, kissing me hungrily, biting my lip. I tasted my own blood and thrust my hips up to meet his hand as he continued to please me, more roughly now. He bit violently into my neck and I felt blood pour from the wound, a pain so excruciating it was a sharp, searing pleasure instead. I touched my hand to this wound and smeared my blood across my face, and lips. I kissed him, hard, grinding myself against his hand in a needful, wanton way. 

“Make me bleed,” I snarled, the words rising unbidden to my lips. “You do not have enough of my blood upon you yet.”

He bit my arm then, savagely, blood spilling from this new wound, staining the floor. His silvery-white hair was stained pinkish red with my blood by then, and when I saw this I ached for him further; the sight aroused me so that I felt my body convulse. I closed my eyes in a bloodlust-like haze of what could only be described as masochistic euphoria as he lapped at my wounds.

Panting, shaking with arousal and violent, hot bloodlust, I whined for more, growling. I cried out and gave myself up fully, groaning to him “Nnh… I am yours.” 

He snarled triumphantly and shoved me onto my back, biting at my chest. “Mine,” he growled to me. “All mine.” He bit and licked further down my chest, towards my stomach.  
I groaned and arched my back, affirming this to him. “Yes… yours… Yours entirely."

With that, he consumed me fully in his mouth. I gasped aloud, and my hips thrust up involuntarily. I shuddered violently, feeling my skin flush and pleasure run down my spine. I felt a primal, instinctive ache grow within me; I knew that I would not maintain my control long. His bloodied hands roamed across my body as he took me to the back of his throat, and I whined, needful, “…soon."

I arched my back as a hot, heavy feeling overtook me; my completion grew imminent. I growled, gutturally, and clawed my fingers into the ground. I felt my body convulse a final time as suddenly, violently, release overtook me. He drank of all I spilt, moaning, and then, smiling, watched me. Panting, I reached for him. I could tell that this was a sight he relished, my shaky and overcome state. I saw in his eyes a nearly drunken look; a barely-restrained need that was yet not sated. He desired me. I tilted my head to him, and whispered, “Come here… I need you."

He pulled himself on top of me, wantonly grinding himself against me for a moment, groaning. I begged, I wanted this. I needed this. He took me then, slicked only with blood; intent on sating a heavy, violent need for release upon and within me. Painful, yes, but everything I had never known I wanted. 

My body, I found, responded admirably; I knew little of what I was doing, still inexperienced. I clawed at the ground and growled to him, met his rough motions and cried out, panting, nearly sobbing, that same feeling of utter release overtaking me again. He bit my shoulder, hard, and pinned me to the ground. I was utterly, completely his, then. His hair swished about me as he braced his hands against the ground on either side of my head, and found his long-awaited release within me. 

I shuddered, feeling utterly fulfilled, and he held me in his arms. He had shown things to me that day, things I had never known existed. I had never thought of myself in this way, as he saw me; as one to be needed, desired. Yet he desired me fully; both in the giving and taking of pleasure. 

Weak, from the exertion, the overwhelming newness of these freshly-discovered sensations, and the blood loss, I bandaged some of my wounds and collapsed into his arms. I ran my finger across the scar, hand-shaped, I had left on his neck the night we first became lovers. It was an intimate gesture, and he quivered slightly at it.

“Oh, Silwë…” he whispered, and kissed me, softly.  
"Oropher..." I murmured. "I am yours."

**Author's Note:**

> Based on RP, and refined into high-grade elf smut.


End file.
